


Not a Pretty Girl

by nilchance



Series: always a girl Jensen [1]
Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Always Female Jake Jensen, Gen, Genderfuck, Sexism in the Military, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nilchance/pseuds/nilchance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Jensen integrates into the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Pretty Girl

Jensen has a soft pack dildo. She names it Fred.

She rebuilt herself from silicon and blood and sweat, gauze around her breasts and her hair buzzed short. She cuts her throat to ribbons, pitching her voice as low as a man's. She lies and she lies and she lies.

They don't suspect a thing. A girl could almost feel guilty.  
***  
Pooch warms up to her first, even before training is finished.

Everyone is exhausted and disgusted, the stink of sweaty men in the small cluster of their guard, like a fog she should see against the fire. Roque is sharpening his knives, the steady scraaaaape a balm for her nerves. Cougar is sharing a cloth (his shirt) with him, his gun broken down into its parts. They still mostly ignore her.

Clay smokes, his back to them, his eyes on the night.

When Pooch sits beside her, she jerks a little. Surprised. She must be tired for him to have slipped up on her like that. Pooch gives her a lopsided smile, bangs his knee against hers in a companionable jostle for space. There's a weathered photo tucked between Pooch's knuckles, like he's going to do a card trick.

"So lemme guess," Jensen says, voice pitched low. "Your secret power is biokinesis?"

Pooch gives him a look. "A Gambit joke? Really? Shouldn't you have graduated to Vertigo like a big boy?"

"Elitist." Jensen nods at the picture. "So?"

"So." Everything about Pooch seems to gentle as he glances at the picture. His mouth quirks at the edge. "Here's the deal. This is my girl. I won't take any shit about her. Had to add that rule 'cause of Roque."

"Said she was pretty," Roque bitches to nobody in particular, pausing to inspect the edge of his knife.

"Dude, you said you'd hit it twice!"

"It was a compliment."

"Boys," Clay says very mildly, not turning around.

They both slink into line, though not without shooting glares at each other. _Alpha,_ Jensen thinks, _betas. Pooch more than Roque. Memo to me: don't show weakness around Roque._ When Pooch passes her the photo, Jensen takes it carefully and gives it the weight Pooch thinks it deserves.

"She is pretty," Jensen says after a while, trying to sound appreciative and not creepy. "Way out of your league."

"Yeah, that's my Jo," Pooch says, pleased, and accepts the photo back. "You got anybody at home?"

Jensen thinks of her sister and her niece. Safe in the US of A. Safe because she makes damn sure of it. She shrugs and says, "Nah."

Pooch thumps her on the shoulder with his closed fist. With him, it's that easy.  
***  
Jensen saves Cougar's life on a Tuesday. Definitely a Tuesday. She doesn't think about it, just sees the glint of another scope (she's always paranoid enough to look, especially after the fiasco with her last team) and she slaps her arm across Cougar's chest to stop him. _Mom arm,_ she snarks when her sister does it, _didn't you ever see those commercials with the sumo in the passenger seat?_

The bullet bites cement, throwing up dust. Roque returns fire. Gunfire sounds better on TV.

She stares at Cougar. Cougar stares at her.

"You," he begins, and maybe he'll even finish that sentence with 'aren't useless', but Clay snaps, "Clear. You two coming?"

Jensen wiggles her eyebrows. Gestures for Cougar and says, "Ladies first."

Cougar does that sardonic thing with his mouth, but he goes. When they peel out, mission accomplished, he sits by her. His thigh is hot and solid against hers. Jensen is very glad that her dick isn't real.

That night, Cougar reaches into his pack and withdraws the deck of cards. Jensen starts to get out of the way like she has every other night since she came on the team, and Cougar tosses the deck into her lap. She fumbles, nearly drops them, and Roque snorts.

"Your deal," Cougar says. "Liar's poker."

Jensen feels Clay watching them. She grins and drops the cards into her open hand. "My kind of game."  
***  
This is what is real:

Her first name is Jake. Dad wanted a boy. Her niece is Diana. Her sister is Shannon. All the pictures in her wallet are real, but she isn't in them; she's taking them, her boobs unbound then and her hair long enough to wrap your fist around. She likes soccer, and Godzilla, and all the stupid things she blathers about to the team. She is a nerd, she is a hacker, she is the best there is. She can have kids, but she takes Depo shots to keep the curse at bay; last thing she needs is to bleed on a goddamn mission. She tried to get her tubes tied before she went in the field, but the military doctor told her she'd change her mind one day. She hefts her own pack, did her own push-ups, ran her own laps. She bleeds camo green. She earned this.  
***  
It happens in a shithole op in Guatemala. Stupid thing is, Jensen doesn't even see it coming. She runs her mouth because she's worried about Roque and Pooch, of all goddamn things, because the bad guy in question (improbable neo-nazi named Bob) has 88 tattooed on his neck, and she's like, "did that hurt? I hope you got your shots?"

Bob pops her in the face and she tastes blood from her split lip. She shakes off the bright stars, says, "Haven't been hit like that since grade school," which she totally stole from Fight Club but it's also true, and he belts her again so hard that her knees fold. He grabs her by the front of her shirt to pull her back up into his fist. She knows when he feels the gauze, because his face gets downright nasty.

She doesn't have time to think; her body knows what's coming, and it gets violent for her. She gets the guard behind her, kicks his knee out backwards. Spits and flails with her elbows (goddamn cuffs) and kicks and fights, holds her shirt down against her body with her arms, and Clay is snarling like thanks, boss, that'll help, and then somebody hits her with a fucking taser and everything is--

When she gets control back, stops seizing all over the place, Bob is holding her shirt and her tape in one hand. Her boobs are just, y'know, out there. It bothers her more than it ought to; she locks her jaw and glares up into Bob's leering grin.

"Hey," he says, and laughs. "This is just adorable. This is too cute. They sent me this little girl." Bob takes a knee and puts his grubby hand on her breast, grinding it down into her ribs. "With her sweet little--"

Nobody's looking at her face. Jensen glances at Cougar, at the angle of his hands behind his back, at the slackness of the man who's guarding him. Cougar looks back at her, expression calm, then tilts his head just a little. Enough.

Jensen knees Bob in the junk. Cougar drops his cuffs.

It's over pretty quick after that.

Afterward, the wrecked bodies of the guards around them, Pooch pulls off his shirt and gives it to her. Jensen puts it on, and absolutely does not rub her aching tit. Bitches, "Man, I'm glad that wasn't awkward or anything."

Nobody cracks a smile.  
***  
They go to the safehouse and separate, the kids to one room and the grownups to the other. Roque and Clay are yelling. It's a little like hearing her parents fight and then fuck to make up. Everything that was good is suddenly uncomfortable. Jensen sits with her duct tape wallet in her hands, worrying it between her fingers. If she looks at the pictures, it's weakness. It's like a game, albeit one she can never win.

"You know what they would've done to her in there."

"For fuck's sake, Roque--"

"You banging her?"

Pooch clicks his tongue. Starts to get up.

"Don't," Jensen says without raising her head. "It won't help."

Pooch glances at her sidelong. After a minute, he sits back down. "It's a stupid ass thing to say."

Jensen shrugs. She doesn't have much to say about it, either way. Her dick is in her backpack, and she feels unmanned. Too aware of her tits and the gap between her legs. Clay yelling about her being qualified for the job is really not helping, because in her experience that's the first step out the door. _You're qualified, but please select one of the above: you're too bitchy, you're too sexy, you're not sexy enough, you don't have enough time in the field, you have too much time in the field, you're angry, you don't watch your tone, you shouldn't, you don't, you are. Sorry._

"I'm too sane for him," she says after a while.

From where Cougar's stretched out on the bed, his hat down over his eyes, there's a snort.

"Saner than Clay's women," Jensen protests, but it doesn't bother her to be considered crazy. She's been called worse.

"Manson is saner than Clay's women," Pooch says. "Hey Cougs. Cards?"

Cougar tips the hat back with his thumb, interested now.

They play poker until the yelling quiets down. It's all right. And if Clay eventually comes in with an ice pack for her bruises, and if Roque doesn't come back that night at all... she can live with it.  
***  
Roque gives her a few days, and then tries to kill her in a junkyard. Well, maybe not kill her, maybe just scare her and teach her and also test her ability to survive, but his first punch nearly decapitates her just because of physics.

"What the fuck?" Pooch demands. He probably does something like start to pull Roque off, knowing him. She can't see whether her guess is right. She can't see if Cougar tries to get in there, too.

"No," Clay says. "Let them work it out."

Thanks, boss. Jensen spits blood but not, thankfully, teeth. Rolls out of the way of Roque's boot and grabs the knife she's seen him strap to his calf. Goes to the fight.

Roque is big and deliberate and smart. He's a good soldier. She's mean and fast and smarter.

They beat the hell out of each other.

Roque cuts her across the belly. She leaves nail-marks around one of his eyes. He nearly breaks her back against a tree. She knees him in the head. It's fun, in a psychotic way.

She wins. Barely. With a stolen car battery. Maybe she ought to pretend that she Macguyver'ed it, but she just hit him in the face. It's a lucky shot, and she knows it, but if it was a real fight, he'd be the dead one.

She must look like she's thinking about dropping the battery on Roque's head, because Clay rises from the trunk of a junk car where he's been watching. "All right," Clay says, "enough. It's done."

If she'd lost, she's not sure he could've kept Roque from killing her. She's not sure Clay knows that, either.

Jensen lets the battery drop safely to the ground.

"Fine," she says. "You're carrying him."

Clay actually cracks a smile.  
***  
After the op is over, they go to the beach. They being she and Cougar; Roque and Clay disappear once they land on base, and Pooch has Jolene. Jensen misses her sister, but she wants to lick her wounds before she goes home. South Padre, Texas: close enough to Mexico to make Cougar happy, far enough from home to make Jensen feel safe, and enough women to satisfy them both. Jensen is pretty much stuck with looking, since Cougar cockblocks her at every turn and also she looks like an after school special with all her bruises. She doesn't mind.

Sunset on the beach. A few beers. Her laptop on her chest. Heaven.

"So?" Jensen asks. She hates the edge in her voice, the challenge, but it's better than what she feels: anxious. She wants to stomp that stupid little girl inside into the ground, salt the earth of the trailer park she came from.

Cougar turns his head. Looks at her. He has his legs folded up in that way that makes Jensen's joints ache. His feet are bare, but he still has the hat. "What?"

Jensen makes an exasperated noise, then gestures down at her boobs. Wrapped again, but he got a decent look back in Guatemala.

"Ah." Unperturbed, Cougar picks up his beer. He drinks a few times, taking his time; Jensen is about ready to clock him with the laptop when he finally adds, "I knew that. It doesn't matter."

"You-- what? No." Jensen sits up, curses and grabs the laptop before it gets sand in the keyboard. "You fucker, you did not know."

Cougar gives her that bland face that Jensen sometimes mentally captions with 'ORLY?'. It occurs to her that he means it.

"How the fuck did you know?" she demands. "I fool everybody. And you didn't say--"

Returning his attention to the ocean, Cougar smiles his enigmatic smile.

"-- anything." Jensen stops. Scowls at him. "You suck."

"You saved my life," Cougar says to the gulf. "You are good at your job. That matters more than your, ah."

Ears burning pink in a mix of mortification and gratitude, Jensen asks, "... my junk?"

"Plastic penis."

"Yeah."

They sit watching the surf, and the sun sinks down. Down the beach, some enterprising teenagers start a bonfire and its light trickles down towards them. It's almost night when Jensen retrieves her wallet.

"I have a niece," she says to Cougar, and shows him the picture.

**Author's Note:**

> Binding with ace bandages is a bad idea.


End file.
